


hang on to a dream

by 4_Jwj



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Robot Sex, ex Tremely slight, umj like very slight ?? breathplay ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4_Jwj/pseuds/4_Jwj
Summary: inseong finds love, kink, and a robot not in that order
Relationships: Kim Inseong/Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	hang on to a dream

it’s strange, that seokwoo even asks. in between kisses, touches that leave him breathless and trembling, it doesn’t occur to him that - seokwoo shouldn’t be able to want, to ask for this at all. but he does - in response to inseong’s own desires, the pull in his programming to serve, but it’s still his initiative, his way of interpreting the laws that isn’t, shouldn’t be possible. 

seokwoo’s first kiss is clumsy, an awkward imitation of the idea of a kiss taken from hundreds, hundreds of thousands of hours of footage from as many angles he’s now attempting to replicate on inseong, but he learns. it’s what he’s built to do, something inseong has made sure he excels at, and so he does. the soft, dry slide of seokwoo’s synthetic lips on his turns smooth, sensual as he learns to use his body in ways it was never made for, what makes inseong shiver and groan. his sensitive audio, temperature receptors miss nothing, no small reaction from inseong, and he repeats these things mercilessly. alternates between sliding his smooth tongue over his, tugging inseong’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, gently, just enough to tease 

(except it can’t be - seokwoo shouldn’t understand, be able to practice the concept of teasing)

in a pattern inseong is too intoxicated to notice is distinctly repeated. seokwoo brings him to the edge, holds him by the back of his neck in an unbreakable grip until stars bloom behind his eyes, his hands slide off seokwoo’s shoulders as he slumps forward. strong, still arms keep him steady as he gasps, struggles to take in air even as seokwoo’s mouth moves down his neck, bites down roughly even though - seokwoo knows, exactly how much pressure from him would cause pain, break skin. he never does, leaves behind a trail of angry red marks that will turn ugly, but never bleed. inseong clutches at his shoulders, shirt when the smoothness there has his trembling hands sliding uselessly off as he struggles to breathe, to support himself as shudders rack his body. 

seokwoo pulls away at the junction between inseong’s throat and collar. won’t undress him, lay a hand that inseong hasn’t explicitly requested under his clothes - or anywhere else, in theory, but with the bruises blossoming on his neck, his lips swollen from rough treatment, the theory is lying in tatters at their feet, ruins of a legacy inseong helped build

(not entirely - because seokwoo asks, takes his hands in his and says 

“i need you to give me permission to hurt you.” and inseong blinks, takes in the warmth of his hands which he knows is just the heat of his processor being distributed throughout his body to keep him from overheating, can’t stop himself from thinking _good enough_.

“why - why do i need to do that? ”

“i don’t think you want me to be gentle with you. are my assumptions wrong?” the tone of his voice is - as it always is, perfectly neutral, but something in his shoulders, the tilt of his head is amused, sounds like gentle ribbing to inseong. he looks down, feels the heat rise to his cheeks even though seokwoo is - 

“no. no you’re not wrong. you can - ” inseong lifts his head, locks eyes with seokwoo’s and defends his pride against a machine

“make me cry.”) 

somehow, he can’t make himself regret it. seokwoo tilts his head - a tick inseong should program out of him, doesn’t - asks 

“may i?” and this - seokwoo’s speech, clipped and almost natural - is new too, almost too much with the warmth in his hands, the way inseong’s fingers have teased his hair into a wild tangle that falls into his eyes, obscures the coldness there somewhat. he nods, gets his voice working enough to say 

“yes, please seokwoo.” in case it isn’t enough. instantly - almost instantly, and inseong is proud of that, even now, that he’s managed to eliminate almost all of the delay in between audio processing and motor function in him - seokwoo’s hands are off his waist, pulling at his shirt so that the fabric splits easily, hangs off his shoulders and bares his chest to seokwoo’s mouth. inseong anchors himself in seokwoo’s hair, knows that as fine tuned as seokwoo is, he doesn’t posses the intricacy of motion in his extremities to undo buttons but can’t suppress a shudder anyway. 

seokwoo lingers over his heart, places a tender kiss there where it’s surrounded by a ring of rising bruises before he moves on. bites down his chest until he’s kneeling between inseong’s spread legs, a loose grip in his hair keeping inseong steady. unsure why he stopped, inseong runs a hand through the soft fibres of his hair, scratches behind his ear although he knows he can’t feel it. 

“i can’t give you pleasure here, not like a human man.” and that’s - true, sort of, there’s no warmth in seokwoo’s mouth, no soft wetness to wrap around his cock and push him over the edge, but he doesn’t know how to explain that the sight of seokwoo, patiently waiting on his knees, makes him want to try - a difficult statement to wrap his around when just seokwoo’s dry lips have him straining, leaking against his pants. 

“can i take you to your room?” inseong nods, lets out an undignified yelp when large hands lift him by the thighs, send him scrambling to wrap his arms around seokwoo’s neck as he’s lifted off his desk and out of the office, carried towards his bedroom. and this - 

this is just one of, not the thing that should make him feel dirty, wrong in all this, but it does. because androids - any robots, even cell phones although that wasn’t always the custom - are kept outside of the bedroom, the only place people can exist without them, without being observed. having seokwoo here, tangling himself up in him until they’re indistinguishable from each other is a taboo he’s been touching himself to thoughts of breaking and still never imaged it would feel like this - like shame and self loathing, an arousal he’s never been so consumed by and a humiliation he craves. wants to use and be used by seokwoo so that they belong to each other completely. 

seokwoo lays him gently on his unmade bed, hesitates until inseong waves him forward. he crawls forward without looking away from inseong, his weight dipping the soft mattress until it touches the bed frame. because it’s what he wants, because none of this makes sense and there’s no reason for it to start now, seokwoo pulls him into his chest to kiss him again, holds him by the waist in an embrace that is completely superfluous to his purpose 

(except it isn’t, because seokwoo’s purpose is to give him pleasure, feed his inexplicable desire to make love to him, and there’s no blueprint, no program that tells him how to do that - means he shouldn’t be able to do it at all, but with his hands and mouth seokwoo is writing his own code, wresting control of his own existence inseong gives willingly, desperately) 

that has inseong canting into him, searching for friction and finding only the hard planes of his surface, molded after a human man but made godly in strength, flawless by design. 

“seokwoo, please.” his voice is a whine, could never be interpreted as a command and still, seokwoo relents immediately, says

“of course, sir,” inseong groans, kisses along his smooth jaw although the action can give him no pleasure. seokwoo lets him do it anyway, runs a hand through inseong’s hair in a copy of his own petting from before as inseong maps out his skin - a supple polymer coating, a feat of engineering and now a canvas for his tongue - with his mouth, learns more intimately the details of seokwoo’s construction. against his thigh, seokwoo’s cock swells as if - 

except it isn’t, it’s not a reaction to anything but inseong’s plea, and that’s enough. more than enough for him to rock his hips into, enjoy the familiar shape and weight against his own length as he moves his lips back to seokwoo’s. 

this, too, seokwoo learns quickly. rolls his hips into inseong’s with a fluidity he could never hope to replicate after he stumbles a few times, systematically fitting the concept of this new action with the parts of him that have to carry it out. it should be - off putting, disturbing even, but the knowledge of what seokwoo is doing and the theoretical complexity of it is inseong’s achievement, only adds to the fog of pleasure created by the pressure, finally, on his dick, the oddly pleasant taste of seokwoo. inseong’s own spit has made the slide slick, and while it should be repulsive the added messiness has him moaning into seokwoo’s mouth, stuttering his hips into his when seokwoo’s tongue, wet only because inseong has been sucking on it, curls against his. 

suddenly, a hand in his hair pulls him away, another at his waist turns him around and between them seokwoo manhandles him until his back is pressed to seokwoo’s chest, still even as inseong pants, breathless in pleasure and shock. lips at his ear whisper 

“sorry, sir, you were going to come.” inseong shudders, reaches behind him to pet seokwoo’s hair again. he was - was rutting against seokwoo shamelessly, so close from just the insistence of seokwoo’s mouth, the way every tiny scrape of their clothed cocks together felt more and more like actual touch as his lungs emptied of air, his mouth bringing in nothing but pleasure. he heaves against seokwoo’s chest, supported only by his arm around his waist. 

“can’t - can’t help it. can’t think like that.” seokwoo’s tongue leaves a cold, wet trail where it runs, lightly, around his ear. inseong shivers, has no idea where he could have possibly learned that but leans into the strange touch anyway. seokwoo obliges, sucks around his earring before saying 

“i know.” inseong moans, fists his hand in seokwoo’s hair even though he knows he could never keep him in place by force. knows he doesn’t need to, that everything he does he does at inseong’s direction and still - 

it’s inseong, whose breath comes in gasps as seokwoo leaves open mouthed kisses on the back of his neck now, cries out when seokwoo’s grip on his trembling thighs turns bruising, keeps him still with tantalizing, aching force. seokwoo kisses down his spine until he’s bent forward almost in half, legs burning as seokwoo holds them apart, gripping at his sheets and trying not to scream. 

“seokwoo, please, my pants it - it hurts.” relief as seokwoo’s hands release his thighs, move to the front of his pants and pull them apart at the seam, zipper tearing and button popping off somewhere into the sheets. inseong chokes on a sob when seokwoo forces a hand into his briefs, cups his dick before gripping it, jerking him off in quick, rough strokes. when seokwoo speaks, it’s an the same even, measured tone, but he presses his words into inseong’s neck along with light, butterfly kisses and inseong knows he’s sincere. 

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know.” seokwoo’s hands are the only part of him that isn’t completely smooth, worn down and torn by decades of work before inseong restored him and too expensive to replace now, with anything approaching his original material. still, the slide of his palm against inseong is slick with his pre-come, and the texture of his hands is so real, almost human except that - it’s better, for being seokwoo, the feel of himself in seokwoo’s hands. against his ass, the outline of seokwoo’s erect length, hard since inseong asked but of course he feels no pain. inseong grinds back against him anyway, just to see what it feels like. seokwoo’s hips rise to meet him, match the pace of his hand exactly.

“want to fuck you now, can i?” inseong groans, leans his head back on seokwoo’s shoulder.

“want?” his voice is a whisper, breathless and desperate in his astonishment. 

“yes.” a simple truth and a contradiction, punctuated with a rough thrust that presses him fully into the curve of inseong’s ass, has him crying out with the promise of it. 

“yes, yes of course you can just - let me stretch myself first.” he doesn’t know, can’t wait to see if seokwoo needs to learn how to prep him. sometime, soon he’ll teach him, feel those thick fingers split him open with all the care and patience, attention to detail and to him he knows seokwoo has. now, he’s too strung up, has been edged beyond what he’s ever taken - has loved every second of it - can take no more teasing. needs to get what he wants and can’t be sure he won’t come just from the first innocent press of seokwoo’s fingers, after this. his ruined pants are easy to pull off, throw somewhere in the room along with the tatters of his shirt, clinging to his back with sweat. seokwoo follows his example, tugs off his pants but leaves his shirt on, cheekily covering his cock head. 

he buries his face in the sheets when he reaches behind himself, goes red all the way down his chest knowing seokwoo is watching, large eyes focused unblinking on his fingers as they pump inside himself, pull wavering sighs out of him against his will. he has two fingers inside himself, is about to slip in a third when he feels seokwoo’s fingers wrap around his wrist, letting him know he’s there before sliding down the back of his hand, pressing one finger inside of him along with inseong’s. like that, he moves both of their hands, pushes in deeper than inseong can comfortably go without pulling his arm. the stretch, everywhere is incredible, has him biting down on the sheets. 

“like this?” inseong nods his head, still clenched around the duvet, both of their fingers. gently, seokwoo slides inseong’s hand out, replaces his fingers with his own. his broader hand reaches deeper, stretches him farther when he scissors his fingers like he’d seen inseong do. inseong pants against the sheets, gets a hand under himself so he can lift himself up, say 

“that’s - that’s enough, i’m ready now seokwoo _please_.” seokwoo’s hand pulls out, lines himself up while his other steadies inseong by the hip. his first thrust pushes him fully inside, makes inseong cry out as he's split open, given no chance to recover when seokwoo pulls out, slams back in again. 

again, there’s a lull, a period where seokwoo’s movements are jerky and inelegant, but inseong is senseless, powerless to notice as he pushes back into seokwoo, tries to match his movements to his. sobs when seokwoo’s rhythm picks up and he bends over, fits his chest to inseong’s back and hauls him up with an arm across his chest. his other hand is wrapped around both of inseong’s wrists, crossing them behind his back. 

inseong’s moans rise into high whines, break on pleas that stop resembling words as seokwoo thrusts into him, keeps him in place with the grip on his hands and moves his other hand to his neck, lightly resting there. every part of him is stretched taunt, aching and sore and burning with ecstasy that has tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

“seok - seokwoo.” for a while, seokwoo’s name is all he can get out, a chorus that sounds like worship as he impossibly - possible only for him - speeds up, slams into inseong in a way that is going to leave bruises on his hips, seokwoo’s brand on every part of him, claiming him in his entirety. 

“seokwoo, please, touch me.” he’s almost proud of himself, being able to speak without choking on his own sobs. seokwoo’s lips at his ear again, his grip on his wrist still unbreakable. 

“i think you can come like this.” inseong cries out, leans back against seokwoo as his legs give out completely under the humiliation, the pleasure.

“no i - i can’t seokwoo please.” seokwoo pulls out to the head, slams back in and stays pressed inside of him, rolling his hips in a filthy grind. the hand at his throat presses down at the base, a flirtation with pressure before a gentle touch tilts his head until he can meet seokwoo’s lips in a vulgar kiss. at this angle, inseong’s lips wet with saliva and clumsy against seokwoo’s it’s sloppy, open mouths pressed against each other, but seokwoo manages to get teeth around his bottom lip, wrap his tongue around his. 

between the obscene spread of seokwoo’s length, his mouth covering inseong’s until his body feels light enough to float, the sting against his ass whenever seokwoo’s thrusts forward pulling him back down to earth, he comes with a wail, held up only by seokwoo’s grip. he doesn’t notice seokwoo pulling out, he’s so far gone with it, head thrown back over seokwoo’s shoulders, legs parting in a loose spread as he goes limp in seokwoo’s arms. through it seokwoo’s hands on his hips keep him steady, careful of the bruises there now that’s finished. 

minutes, hours later he brings a lazy hand up to run through seokwoo’s hair. inseong is filthy, covered in his own come and sweat, tear tracks sliding down his cheeks, but seokwoo is out of sorts only where inseong’s hands have ravaged, and even then only on his hair and clothes. the rest of him is smooth and unmarked, save for a sheen of inseong’s sweat that can be easily wiped off. inseong frowns, turns around gingerly and winces at the ache in his legs. 

seokwoo’s hands are at his waist in an instant, laying him down lightly on his back, running over his thighs and stopping to rub at the worst of the soreness. on his back, inseong reaches out to feel around his nightstand, finds the thick black sharpie he keeps there to redact his papers before they're published. 

he lifts seokwoo's shirt with one hand, uncaps the sharpie with his teeth. seokwoo lets him do it, scrawl his name across his stomach with a cheesy heart beside it while he hovers over him, resting his weight on one arm and carding his fingers through inseong's hair with the other. when he's done, he lets the cap fall out from between his teeth, tilts his head up in invitation. seokwoo takes it, kisses first his lips then his nose, places twin pecks on his cheeks. his hand finds its way back to inseong's thigh through a meandering path over his bruises.

“i’m sorry, i hurt you too much.” inseong laughs, covers his face with an arm. 

“no you - you were great, seokwoo.” one of seokwoo’s hands softly lifts his arm up, swipes a featherlight touch against his cheek to wipe what’s left of his tears away. a pause, and then a delicate kiss is pressed to his lips. 

“still, i’m sorry.” confusion doesn’t show well on seokwoo’s placid, handsome features, but inseong thinks he can see it there anyway when he says 

“i am sorry i hurt you, because it is against my programming to do so. however i am not sorry i - behaved as i did, and i would repeat my actions, because they gave you pleasure - and myself as well.” seokwoo’s lapse into a more rigid pattern of speech accentuates his difference, his otherness to any of inseong’s previous partners, but what matters are his words, what they imply. inseong brings a hand up to cup seokwoo’s cheek, doesn’t bother to tamp down his smile when seokwoo not only accepts the touch, but leans into it with his little tick. 

“gave you pleasure, huh. does that make sense, seokwoo?” seokwoo shakes his head, presses his cheek back into inseong’s palm. 

“no but i - ” and the fact that seokwoo has to pause at all, that even his immense processing power needs time to run through all the possibilities, is a testament to how well they’ve fucked the assumptions, the theories and the facts that robotics are based on - because seokwoo hasn’t been presented with the problem of the formation of the universe, the location of an single atom at one time, but of inseong and his abstract, insignificant emotions. a problem seokwoo should have dismissed out of hand and yet - built on, took up inside himself and made larger than life. 

“i believe that what i am - feeling cannot make sense.” seokwoo turns his head to press a kiss into inseong’s palm before lowering himself down beside him. completely inexplicable, that an android, even one as sophisticated as seokwoo would do, say any of what he just did and said. rather than finding out why, inseong wants to see how many more incomprehensible human things he can get seokwoo to do and say. he wipes himself off with the corner of his sheets, turns to tuck his head into seokwoo’s shoulder. it’s hard, and uncomfortable, but with the way his head is spinning it’s almost unnoticeable. 

“seokwoo - have i upset you, making you do all this? feel - all of this?” seokwoo’s hair tickles his cheek as he shakes his head. 

“no. the first things i have felt have been pleasurable. confusing, but pleasurable.” inseong laughs, lets his eyes close in exhaustion.

“you’re doing it right then.” he interrupts seokwoo with a yawn, stifles it in his hand. another kiss, this time over his hair. he thinks seokwoo has learned - he likes kissing, likes the reaction he gets from inseong and what he communicates when he does it. he starts to ask, speaks through another yawn. 

“sleep, inseong, you can tell me in the morning.” inseong nods, pats seokwoo’s chest.

“stay?” it’s not an order, but seokwoo turns into him, lays a hand on his cheek and runs a thumb over his cheek, under his closed eye. 

“goodnight, inseong.” 

“goodnight, seokwoo.”

**Author's Note:**

> theres a prequel to this an alternate universe thats tender and not porn . that fic is excellent and was writtint by skmeone whosw brain isnt burnt toast rn . pretend u read that fic .


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